Every December [Soon to be Self Published]

Chapter 28

The Next December

"Austin, your father has a physical therapy appointment," Joelle says, carrying on her warm smile. She turns her attention to my dad. "Ready to work hard today?"

He grunts in a way that's become more frequent. His reaction to everything. Like he's in mental pain. His condition has deteriorated so much that it's becoming difficult for him to do basic things like feed himself and brush his teeth. I look at him, grieving this new phase he's entered, which seems to be moving quickly. I'm afraid he won't be here for next Christmas. I put my hand over his, but he jerks it away.

Joelle takes over, helping him sit up. "Come on, Darren. You have to help me out." Her gaze flashes at me. "Austin, you hang in there. You have a good holiday."

"I will." I start to walk out.

"What are your Christmas Eve plans?" she asks casually.

"Meg is coming over." They're coming for dinner this year, with Myla and her boyfriend, a golf instructor at one of the resorts in the area and Rosie. My son, Gabe, will be with Brielle for this first Christmas, a sore subject that causes deep annoyance, but I'm abiding by the schedule our lawyers barely scraped up and got us to agree to. Ultimately, I had to be here with my dad and traveling with an infant wouldn't have been what's best for him or this situation.

I leave the care facility and get in the SUV as snow begins to fall. The air in the car is chilly enough to see my breath. The downtown looks like it did last year with the town Christmas tree and lights; the ice rink still busy, and smoke coming out from the chimney's in the older houses just beyond Main Street. The mountains are covered in snow from a recent storm, and I get moving.

I try not to let thoughts of Brielle ruin my Christmas. I am involved in every level with Gabe that our custody agreement allows. We share him, though Brielle is constantly trying to take me to court to get more money and less time with him. She's not the woman so 'willing' to work out everything. To bend over backwards to be a family. I keep our business out of the media whereas she has a new hobby of selling every piece of dirt she has on me. One thing she can't give is photos of Gabe, per our agreement. If she does that, she violates several rules, and will have to pay fines. A grin forms at that thought.

On the drive home, the road opens in front of me. There aren't many cars out with another approaching storm. I pick up everything I need for the dinner tomorrow night and arrive at home to see the light on and the Christmas tree lit up in the window. It's like someone wrapped a big red bow around this house.

This is my favorite part about coming here. About what's waiting inside for me.

I grab the groceries and walk through the front door, taking off my boots and letting my gaze drift up the banister decorated with white and red wreaths and ribbon in between. They lead up to a large wreath on the overlook.

The television is on, a Christmas movie, I don't have to see the screen to know. It's all she watches from Thanksgiving until Christmas Day.

I get the groceries unpacked and take off my coat.

Then, I go see my wife.

Her head turns. She yawns. "Hey, you're back."

"I am." I lean down to kiss her. My gaze travels to her pregnant belly, six months along, and a baby brother Gabe will meet sometime in the middle of March.

I take a seat next to her, propping her legs up on mine. "When did Ashley leave?"

"About an hour ago. She was going to fall asleep." Lydia laughs. "I swear we used to be more fun. Now it gets close to 7 p.m. and we're yawning and going our separate ways."

"The two of you have never been fun."

"Not true." She scoffs. "But anyway, she swears she's having contractions, even if it's still a month early."

"Does that mean they aren't coming over for breakfast?" Lydia and Ashley have planned everything, right down to cinnamon rolls.

"They're going to stay at their house after all. She's exhausted. I'm actually okay they aren't coming. We'll get together with them after Christmas."

"I can live with that." It means more time like this. I run my hand over hers. "The contractor called. There's a delay on the cabinets. He's pushing our move in date until after January 9th." We've had this discussion before, but we're in the middle of moving to a new house in Annapolis, which means we'll stay here longer. It'll be the first January that I've been here and last summer Lydia was here with me in between games and at two of my bigger tournaments. I sold my house in Pasadena so she could stay at her hospital. I go where she goes.

"I was thinking how different things looked last year," she comments, switching positions and resting her head against my chest. "I was single, for one."

"You were barely single. You still had your ring with you."

"I sometimes wonder where I'd be if you hadn't flown out to Annapolis to set things straight."

"It's a good thing I did, I got to make out with you in the supply closet, which was hot. I was willing to do more, but you were worried about getting caught."

"Then what?" Her voice is warm and teasing.

"I said I was going to ask you to marry me. You raced home. I proved several times that no other man would ever live up to your expectations. Still, you were kind of quick to say yes. You didn't even play hard to get."

"I was thinking you should have had me sign a prenup."

"Why? You still afraid I'm going to steal your money?" My hand rests on her belly. Lydia hasn't quite gotten used to our lifestyle, but she will.

"I'm afraid one day I'll wake up and this will all end. Or I'll get careless with finances."

"That would never happen. You made me return that sweater that was $19.99." Despite the lighthearted notes, I know she's dealing with the fallout that has come from her mother for marrying me. "Have you called your mom?"

"Not yet. She's having Chris and Hartley for Christmas dinner." While I've grown closer to Meg and Myla, Lydia's family has been growing apart and the strain between Chris, her mother, and Lydia is very much unresolved. Her mother is in the middle of Chris and Hartley hating me and wanting to be happy for her daughter.

She moves closer to me, giving me access to her mouth, already stirring in me where this will go. I kiss her long and hard, reminding her that we don't have to go through anything alone anymore. Her chest rises against mine and I deepen the kiss, fully intending to close this deal.

Before this goes any further, I reach across to the coffee table and open the drawer. "What's that?" she says, sitting up straight.

"Remember last year when we played 500 and I won?"

"Yes." Her eyes widen with laughter. "Are those the bets?"

"They are." I hold up the envelopes. "Did you forget?"

"No. I had assumed you threw them out. We know you got what you wanted."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself, Hobs. Are you sure that's what I wanted?"

She cocks her head as if realizing she might have been wrong, but also not knowing whether to believe me. "Isn't it?" A note of uncertainty is in her voice, which is right where I want her.

"Let's open them and find out." I hand her mine and I keep hers. "I'll go first." I open the envelope and roll my eyes. "Seriously? No, Lydia, we're not getting matching Santa hats." I glance at her sternly. "No way in hell. You really need to ask for more."

"I was going to ask for mistletoe in the house."

"And you went with the hats? You're so disappointing." I nod at the envelope. "Go on. Your turn. Let's see if you're right or wrong."

She takes out the paper, expecting me to ask to get her naked, and instead, warmth touches her eyes. She looks at me, fighting back tears. "It says," she clears her throat, "I want you in all my Decembers."